


It'll Be Easy, Oh, So Easy

by stage_master



Category: Gangster Squad (2013)
Genre: And a Fandom is Born!, Gangsters, Josh Brolin - Freeform, M/M, PWP, Ryan Gosling - Freeform, This whole movie is wonderful period -clothes-porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stage_master/pseuds/stage_master
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His hand is on his belly, dick bobbing red and swollen next to his wrist. Jerry rolls his hips languidly, one hand on John’s chest and the other holding a burning Winston to his lips. His mouth twists, neck rolls back to reveal a long line of throat as he blows smoke at the yellowed Best Western ceiling."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It'll Be Easy, Oh, So Easy

  
  
His hand is on his belly, dick bobbing red and swollen next to his wrist. Jerry rolls his hips languidly, one hand on John’s chest and the other holding a burning Winston to his lips. His mouth twists, neck rolls back to reveal a long line of throat as he blows smoke at the yellowed Best Western ceiling. He rolls back, clenches, digs his nails into John’s skin, smirks when the old sergeant winces and bucks up. Rough hands grab at his hips and hold him down and close, making him laugh and groan at the same time.  
  
“Don’t have to be quite so genteel, do you hero?” Jerry asks, throaty and insufferably amused.  
  
Stoic to the end John merely narrows his eyes and thrusts again, hard. Jerry bites his lip and ashes the smoke, hand a little shaky. The older sergeant’s lips twist up and soon he's rolling, pulling the other man underneath him and upping the tempo. His hand strays to the younger man’s belly once again, holding him in place as Jerry’s hands fly up to grip the cheap wooden headboard, knocking out a fast rhythm against the plaster.  
  
“What’ll the neighbors think?” Jerry gasps, feet coming up to brace against the sheets as he tries to thrust up, rub his aching cock against John’s sweaty skin anywhere he can reach. It earns him a chuckle and a tight, calloused hand around his dick, so he forgives the former to encourage the latter to continue. He pushes back into the thorough fucking and then deeper into John’s hand, and feels the edge race close.  
  
“Come on hoss, almost there-” his chest hitches, fingers making the wood above his head creak, and then suddenly he’s shooting into that strong palm, coating both their bellies. Jerry seizes up vice-like around John’s cock and John groans, a hurt animal sound, and he’s going off like a tommy with his free hand clenched in a fist at Jerry’s hip. He collapses to the side and lays there, eyes closed and chest heaving.  
  
The blond man chuckles softly and reaches for his lighter and another smoke.  
  
“You know what I think old man?” he murmurs, lighter snicking closed and plume of smoke wreathing his head, “I think this shit would be a whole hell of a lot easier if they just stuck to the hat code.”  
  
When this statement is met with silence he turns his head to see John sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on socks and shaking his head.  
  
“No really. The hat code. The wild and crazy west hat code. Bad guys wear black, good guys wear white. Bam. Black hats dead. The end. You know? Back home in time for a little TV dinner.”  
  
John’s pulling his braces up, tucking the wrinkled shirt in and straightening his holster. He shrugs into his wool jacket and pats for his wallet before finally turning and facing the languid, sprawled form on the bed.  
  
“And what the hell would we wear?”  
  
Jerry grins and blows a passable smoke ring in his direction.  
  
“I’m starting to prefer it when we don’t wear anything at all, bossman.”  
  
The wink is sly, inviting him in on the secret. John shakes his head, mouth twisted up, before grasping the door knob.  
  
“We’re hitting the south side peer tonight. Try not to show up too loaded.”  
  
He misses the slow salute as he pulls the door shut.  
  
He also misses the smile drop from Jerry’s face, shadows pooling under his eyes as the room slowly grows dim around him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from one of the film's tracks: Old Buttermilk Sky by Hoagy Carmichael
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=fOgrjd9NKF0


End file.
